


The Quality of Mercy

by Lexigent



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexigent/pseuds/Lexigent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You will lose this wager, my lord."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quality of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly based on the Peter Brook production, wherein Adrian Lester as Hamlet and Scott Handy as Horatio are brilliant and intense. It was a production that made me wonder, what if Horatio actually went and did something instead of just watching, because this one seemed like he would have done.

"You will lose this wager, my lord."

The honesty and conviction behind Horatio's words broke Hamlet's heart; this belief that there was still something that could be done to postpone the inevitable. The lie about his practice fell flat, as only it could have with Horatio.

"I'll say you are not fit," Horatio said and made to go, but Hamlet snatched his arm and held him back.  
He knelt, then, partly because he hoped this would work and partly because he was not too sure of his feet just then. He needed to make Horatio understand that this was right; this was just. He had caused too much death to not be punished.

"The readiness is all," he ended, Horatio's hand still in his. He could feel the tears rise up in his chest and fought as well as he could, but he knew they'd show. He held Horatio's gaze and he could see it happening then on his friend's face - the loss of hope, the overwhelming pain born out of a devotion Hamlet never deserved.

It was not the first time that he wished Horatio would just go already. He shouldn't even have been here; shouldn’t have to see this.  
  
But he was there, and his actions were just as inevitable as the fight that must happen sooner or later. It was what Hamlet had always feared, this kiss, but he was powerless to prevent it or resist. How long, he thought as he drank in his friend's desperation, had Horatio wanted this? How long did he carry the weight of this desire inside without giving it voice or action?

There was a question in Horatio's eyes when Hamlet broke the kiss and it was impossible to answer. _Is this enough?_

Because it was, yes, of course, more than enough, Horatio was more than enough even before, but Laertes must be satisfied, if not today, then at another time. There was no other path.

"I cannot," he said, then stopped because there was no way to end the sentence. Horatio leaned his forehead against Hamlet's, held him steady, and Hamlet couldn't resist and couldn't accept and for a moment, he felt as though suspended in time, every way forward blocked and impossible.

"I only wished to talk reason with you, my lord," Horatio said next to his ear. Hamlet wondered how he could still be so firm, so tangible, when all the rest of the world was so shaken. "I'll to Laertes and your uncle, if you let me. If I do not -"

Hamlet laid a finger on Horatio's lips and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly, then spoke.  
"You have talked enough," he said. Horatio backed away from him and frowns - a small mercy, a sign he had his own thoughts and commanding his love was not as easy as laying a finger on him.

"We are past words," he added. "They will only answer you with swords. There is only one language now for them."

Horatio was still for a long while but finally gave a nod. Hamlet knew Horatio did not fully comprehend this and he couldn't blame him. Horatio solved everything with words, how could he understand this?

"Let be," he said with finality, and Horatio replied, "I will, my lord."  
  
***

He accompanies Hamlet to the fight, dutiful as ever, and then Hamlet doesn't have time to think about anything other than Laertes' sword and averting hits. Laertes drops his sword after Hamlet hits him twice and Hamlet lunges for it, but Horatio, from outside the circle, is quicker. They both stare at him amazed, and then, Hamlet, regaining his wits faster than the other man, touches the point of his sword to Laertes' shoulder.

"And there's the wager done," Horatio says and points his sword along his gaze, past Hamlet's head, at the king. Hamlet feels Laertes tug at his arm but he brushes him off with ease and hears only a thud behind him.  
He's never had to do this alone, Hamlet realises; and after everything, it is done in an instant, his sword useless on the floor for an instant after before Horatio takes it up in his left.

He cannot prevent Gertrude from drinking the poisoned chalice, but he flings it out of her hand and across the room.

Hamlet falls to his knees and sits facing Laertes, who has scrambled back to sitting. Horatio stands back a distance from both of them, still holdings the swords with their tips on the ground.

"He bade your father stand in for him," Hamlet begins, addressing Laertes. "That's how he came dead."

"And my sister -" Laertes begins.

"By royal hand, most like" Horatio says. Hamlet looks at his with incredulity.

"What makes you say so?"

"I spoke to her in her confinement," Horatio says. "She was not mad as she appeared. I cannot but conclude some treachery at play."

Laertes curls up, hugging his knees and hiding his face. For a long while, his suppressed sobs are the only sound in the room.

"The dead are dead," Horatio says, "and killing my lord may give you satisfaction, but won't do anything to change that."

Laertes looks up out of red eyes.

"I should have taken greater care."

"The past is past," Hamlet says. "What wouldst thou now? Beg from me anything you want, for I myself can only beg for your forgiveness, for mine and for my parents' actions, which you would do well to withhold."  
"Enough is lost, my lord," Laertes says and gets up. He straightens and stretches out his hand. "Forgiveness is the only currency I have, and being thus the only offspring of our two families, I would ask we rule together, as our families might have done in time."

Hamlet bites his lip - it's true, Ophelia would have been his queen in time. He could have worse partners in building their kingdom from the shards of the old one.

"So shall it be," he says, and they shake hands.


End file.
